


Prayers against the palm of his hand

by thatdragonchic



Series: "Scott Saved Me" but it came with a price [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, Dark!Scott, Mentions of Stydia, Other, Protective Scott, Sciles, Sciles fluff, Scott Bites Stiles, Scott loves Stiles, Scott-Centric, Stiles gets The Bite, Stiles is scotts beta, This is Part 2 of a Series, but the content is heavy, but yes, it would make more sense tbh, its a lot ot take in I think, part 1 is like 2 pages, sciles angst, should probably read part 1 first, stiles is a werewolf, stiles loves scott, this one is shortish too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 01:58:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdragonchic/pseuds/thatdragonchic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of biting Stiles, Scott finds himself at the bed of his brother praying for him to wake up against the palm of his hand</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prayers against the palm of his hand

**Author's Note:**

> I really appreciate comments and feedback! My tumblr is Allineedcd if you want to contact me there about the series!

Scott thinks he’s having an asthma attack, the way that his chest constricts and his breath stops all together when he steps into the hospital room. There’s a million and one tubes stuck inside of him, there’s a patch where the wounds were covering the stitches he probably got, they were too big to heal on their own. A heart monitor was steadily beating and Stiles was asleep. Yeah he was asleep… 

Scott thinks he looks too peaceful, Lydia is sitting by his side, she could never say she’s seen Scott so wrecked and terrorized. He didn’t stop crying the whole two nights before, he was a shaking, sobbing, mess from start to finish. He didn’t have it in him to face Stiles when the blame weighed heavy on his chest, regardless of what anybody told him. The fact that Stiles had to face death so urgently, had almost fell from his arm silently had  _ ruined _ him. He was never letting Stiles walk alone without his protection, even if Stiles would beg desperately that it’s pushing it. Stiles suffers so greatly and here was Scott, adding another burden to a heart already burdened. Scott hates himself for it, he wants to kick and scream because of it. He hates this, hates seeing Stiles wince with every breath. He must be healing, he must be! He has to be. 

And yet… he’s not waking up. He hasn’t been and the wound is healing too slowly. Peter said that his slumber is causing it heal slowly, but if he’s healing and not gushing blackened blood, then he was already turned- there was nothing to fear.  _ Nothing to fear  _ Scott repeats to himself, slow steps towards the bed until he’s facing Stiles directly. He doesn’t care if Lydia’s there watching. Losing Allison was one thing, he knew he had a place to fall back but if Stiles was gone he’d be left to fall into an abyss, to drown in the ocean with no ropes to pull him. He can’t lose Stiles,  _ he can’t lose Stiles.  _

Scotts staring at him, as if willing him to get up, to open his eyes, to stutter, to swallow, to move somehow. Just to show he’s alive. Scott can hear the steady beating of his heart, how he matches it with the monitor but it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough, he just wants Stiles to do something, to show him. Scott can’t help it when he takes Stiles stiff hand in his, the pulse steady in his veins and his hands were warm, he squeezes and Stiles doesn’t squeeze back. He can hear the shuffling of the chair, he can hear the nurses talking, he can hear people walking in and out of ICU, he can hear the people outside of ICU, he could hear everything and everyone and the cars rushing off down below in the streets, the sirens of the ambulances, the police cars. He can hear too much, feel too much as if he’s a new wolf all over again. The shaking of his hands is something inevitable, the tremor in his body is almost painful. He just wants it to end, for Stiles to wake up and be okay. It doesn’t happen that night.

  
  


It takes a few more days but Stiles wakes up and Scott is just emptily reading a biology textbook. His eyes are scanning the pages when his ears catch the slight sound of movement, body going from slumped to upright. He’s staring at Stiles who looks groggy and maybe a bit high on the dosed medication (he couldn’t be sure if it was working or not), he glances around dazed. 

“Stiles?”

“Mm speaking?” he mumbles dazed and Scott can’t help but crack a smile, a sad, a broken, an empty smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

“We’re not on the phone.”

“We might be on the phone,” Stiles mumbles, slumping into the bed. “What’s wrong? Where am I?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember  _ much. _ ”

“What do you remember?”

“Dying.”

“Dying?”

“I remember… I remember you were holding me and I was dying.”

Scott nods and he can see that Stiles is thinking. The panic that rises in his chest is ever present and he can see the quirk on Stiles face, as he slowly becomes aware of what must be Scott’s heart beat and the sounds and the smells and the feelings.

“You bit me?”

“I had to. You were dying.”

“You saved me.”

“I ruined you.”

“You saved me.”

“Stiles you never said I could- I panicked, I-”

“Saved your best friend.”

“I couldn’t lose you too,” Scott whispers and there were tears pooling in his eyes and his lip was quivering and Stiles features seem so void of any expression but his eyes watched sympathetically. Scott could just smell how tired and anxious and low he was, he could barely look at him, and for Stiles to look at him as if he was the dying man killed Scott inside out. He shouldn’t be crying when Stiles was suffering, but Stiles manages to lay out his hand and Scott is too weak to hold himself back from moving onto the bed and hugging his torso, head falling to his shoulder and sobbing wrecked and beat and hurt. Something inside of him was still so angry, was itching and urging and tugging at him.  _ Revenge, Revenge, Revenge.  _

They almost killed Stiles, they almost took the only thing Scott had left to lean on, they almost took the one person he cared about most. Scott hated them with all his being and he hated that they forced him to rip the ground of mortality from under Stiles feet, he hates that they made the most invincible person on earth a creation of inhumanity itself. Scott hugs Stiles close and he just wants to wreck the person who took that away from Stiles- who almost made him an uncanny version of what he once was. Who forced Stiles to become something Scott knew Stiles, deep down, never wanted to be, to become. 

Stiles shaky hand runs through Scott’s hair and he sobs helplessly. Everything felt wrong. This shouldn’t be the way it is. That Stiles was the one in the hospital bed, just coming into his ‘wolfdom’ and surely confused, hearing and seeing and smelling too much. He shouldn’t be crying on his shoulder yet here he is. Here they were. Stiles hugs him tightly, squeezes his neck softly and Scott looks up, doe eyes gazing as if caught by the hunter with a gun to his head, with claws to his chest, ready to tear him inside out- ready to tear  _ stiles  _ inside out and the memory of Stiles keeling, his mouth parted aghast, his torso battered and blood with wounds far too deep, that his insides must have been torn- it takes Scott to a place he doesn’t want to be and he’s panicking. He feels like he’s drowning. He thinks that he’s flailing, sinking, drowning and he just wants to get the man who hurt him, it was the leader of the were-whatever pack, it had to be, nobody was as built as that one specifically and Scott wanted his vengeance, to enforce his power. Nobody messes with his pack like that, takes his  _ brother  _ like that.

“Scott calm down,” Stiles whispers. “Scott?”

Scott focuses back in on Stiles voice and he seems dazed and a little crazed and his breath is labored. Is he having a panic attack? He can’t tell. Stiles pushes his hair back again and Scott feels something in him settle. Stiles was here, Stiles was  _ okay  _ and breathing and alive. 

“Scotty it’s okay bud, I’m right here for you. I’m here with you… You saved me, it came with a price but you saved me, you could have let me die but you didn’t.”

“I can’t live without you.”

“You can and you know it. You’re Scott McCall, there’s nothing you can’t do.”

“There is and the one thing I can’t do is live without you. I love you, I love you so much more than anything else. You’ve always been there, you’ve always defended me, you were the one thing that has always been indestructible, the only thing that ever  _ remained  _ and I can’t lose you too. I can’t lose my brother too.” 

“And you didn’t. I’m right here.”

Frail and fragile and considerably inconsiderate, Scott felt like he was being irrational and left to flail a bit in the air, although he was sat perfectly still, staring at Stiles with a helplessness. “It’s not fair…”

“It wouldn’t be fair if you were left to suffer.”

“It’s not fair to you.”

“Life has never been fair to me. If anything, this is a leverage to my weaknesses.”

“You’re not weak.”

“I’m definitely not strong.”

“Stiles…”

“Scott it’s okay.”

“You’re going to be okay.”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think you’ve turned fully yet.”

“I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“Go back to sleep.”

 

Except, Scott was the one that woke up, his head pressed to Stiles leg and he was still sleeping, still still and still pale as death itself. Scott longed for it, for Stiles to wake up. But it has yet to come. And he was stuck here, with a seething rage itching at the underbelly of his torso, he’s watching helplessly, gripping Stiles hand. 

“Please wake up, Please wake up, please wake up…” he murmurs, his forehead pressed to Stiles hand, his own holding Stiles. Were they brothers or more? Was this just about losing Stiles? He was so important to him… Stiles needs to wake up, Stiles needs to wake up, soon. Now. Before Scott loses his mind, he needs Stiles to wake up, but he wasn’t waking up, Scott was desperately praying for his friend to wake, for brown eyes to open. What felt like minutes turns to hours and Scott is just sitting there, waiting for a notion, a movement, a stutter of breath or heartbeat or something. There’s nothing, until Scott’s falling asleep and Stiles stirs a bit groggily. 

Though Scott isn’t up in an instant, his eyes raise slowly and his head raises with vigilance, only to see a doe eyed boy staring at him, eyes half lidded, lids parted, hazy and tired seeming. “Where’s dad?” Stiles mumbles and Scott watches him carefully, not daring raise his head anymore, as if maybe he’d wake up again. His hand grips Stiles and he watches with care, with an edge almost, but Stiles only blinks, looking around. He seems confused.

“Where’s dad?” he repeats, and Scott can’t help but think he looks childish and small,  _ innocent.  _

“He was taking a late shift… he gets off around 4 AM,” Scott informs.

“What time is it?”

“Three Fifteen. Think you can stay awake for a while?” 

Stiles nods. “How long was I speeping?” he slurs, yawning after a moment. He felt like everything was heavy, his eyelids, his arms, his legs, his whole body. He was hyper aware and heavy feeling and achey.

“Almost four days.”

“Oh.” He sort of nods but Scott can tell he feels heavy, that Stiles isn’t feel good. 

“Are you okay?”

“I can’t really reply to that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know my state of condition or my chance for terminal life.”

“If you were going to be dead, you already would be.”

“And I’m not. So there’s that.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“I remember you holding me.”

“And…?”

“Almost dying… dying… something like that.”

“You didn’t die.”

“Yeah I guess I didn’t. I don’t what you did but you saved me Scott. You  _ saved  _ me.” 

“I did but it didn’t come without a price.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to bite you.”

“Oh.”

“I panicked.”

“I understand.”

“I took your life from you.”

“You gave it back.”

“Stiles I love you.”

“Scott I love you too. It’s okay.”

“I couldn’t lose you.”

“I couldn’t bare to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be. Don’t be sorry. We worked through everything, we can work through this. We’re brothers.” 

Scott nods and when Stiles holds out a hand, Scott clasps his own with the one held out. “And brothers stand together.” 


End file.
